


we march in the damnation parade

by theomegapoint



Series: Kinktober 2019 [5]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, Electrocution, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Masochism, Torture, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-09 01:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theomegapoint/pseuds/theomegapoint
Summary: Closing his eyes, Party Poison breathes. It won't be long before the rest of the Killjoys come and save him, he knows, the question is more how much Korse is going to torture him before then. Korse left the room an indeterminate amount of time ago, leaving Party Poison alone with his thoughts, but he knew better than to think they were gone for good. Everything hurt, and Party Poison could only breathe.In and out. In and out.





	we march in the damnation parade

**Author's Note:**

> for the record, korse is referred to with they/them pronouns because the BL/ind in this worldbuilding are kind of like a hivemind. this is not a reflection of how i feel about trans issues, and party poison's feelings about betas are more because of his belief in freedom rather than an implication that he thinks not having a gender is in and of itself a bad thing.
> 
> anyway, that disclaimer out of the way: enjoy this torture porn.

Party Poison isn't entirely sure how he ended up in this position, chained to a wall and being tortured, but he's in it and Korse doesn't seem like they want to relent anytime soon. Well, that’s not quite true. He does know how he got into this position, but that seems almost beside the point. Just because he’s figured out how Korse captured him doesn’t mean he wants to fucking think about the lengths Korse is willing to stoop to. Inducing a fake rut in order to incapacitate someone was a lowest of the low tactic, and Party Poison knew that Korse would only stoop so low because they were a filthy “beta.”

Betas weren’t _real_. They were _manufactured_ by Better Living Industries, who figured out the exact chemicals to feed an alpha or an omega to effectively neuter them. BL/ind deemed their new, lifeless shells “betas,” saying they were the future like they hadn’t just stripped the fundamental elements of humanity from those people. Like eradicating individuality was a _good_ thing and not a nightmare. Party Poison wouldn’t be surprised if Korse couldn’t even remember what gender they used to be at this point. He sure has fuck can’t figure it out, which just goes to show how thoroughly BL/ind’s “conversions” work.

Closing his eyes, Party Poison breathes. It won't be long before the rest of the Killjoys come and save him, he knows, the question is more how much Korse is going to torture him before then. Korse left the room an indeterminate amount of time ago, leaving Party Poison alone with his thoughts, but he knew better than to think they were gone for good. Everything hurt, and Party Poison could only breathe.

In and out. In and out.

There's a click that signals the door opening. Party Poison’s head jerks up and he tries to focus on whoever’s entered. It's Korse again, and they’re holding something in their hand. Vision swimming, Party Poison can't tell what it is until Korse walks closer. Even then he's not quite sure of the specifics, he only knows that it has a switch and it's likely to be very, very painful. Korse runs a hand along Gerard's cheek as soon as they’re close enough to touch, and it would be almost be tender if they weren't simultaneously pressing whatever was in their hand to Party Poison's stomach.

“Tell me where they are, Party Poison,” Korse whispers into his ear, “and I'll put the taser away. It can be as easy as that, if you want. I'd even let you down from this wall, give you a real bed and real food. How long has it been since you’ve had real food, hm?”

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.” 

Party Poison spits. It lands squarely on Korse’s face, and they make a disgusted expression before wiping it off.

“Pity,” Korse says as he pulls away. “I suppose it can't be helped then.”

Korse flips the switch on the device they’re holding, and electricity runs through Party Poison, intense and unbearably painful. He cries out, voice echoing against the walls of the room, and Korse doesn't move. Their expression doesn’t even falter, because betas are incapable of real emotions. They just hold the taser there for ten long, long seconds. When they pull it away, Party Poison's head hangs and he breathes. 

In and out and in and out.

Moving the taser lower, Korse rests it against the base of Party Poison's cock, and pets at his hair. Party Poison is barely conscious, vision swimming in and out of focus.

“So stubborn, Party Poison.” Korse tsks, and a normal person would look disappointed but Korse’s unchanging neutral expression can’t manage that. “Some things never change.”

“Go,” Party Poison manages, “get dusted.”

The loud, ugly laughter Korse gives is the only signal before the switch is flipped again and fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_ it's a world of hurt. Hysterically, Party Poison wonder why Korse is even so big on torture. They’re a fucking _beta_, it’s not like they can get off on any of this. 

At some point, Party Poison must totally lose consciousness, because when he’s next coherent enough to be aware of his surroundings, he's been stripped of his clothes and moved. No longer chained to the wall, Party Poison is now chained to the floor spread-eagle. There's no give to his restraints, and Party Poison can feel the strain the position puts on his muscles. At some point he must have been hooked up to an IV or something, because he feels more alert than he did before. Party Poison’s still weak, but the change means that BL/ind must not want him _dead_ for whatever reason.

The door clicks open, and Party Poison can hear someone walking closer to him. Korse appears in his field of vision, standing over Party Poison and blankly staring down at him. They’re holding a candle.

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know today, Party Poison?” Korse’s expression never changes, his voice monotone, and Party Poison would spit in his face again if he could. “I could give you so many things if you’d only give me this one simple thing. Don’t you want that? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I’d rather die.”

Korse disappears from Party Poison's sight, and for a moment he thinks they’re gone. Then, the first stab of hotsharp pain hits in the crease between his leg and his hip and Party Poison tries to trash in his restraints, but it only causes the restraints to bite into his arms. It's not like it matters, though, because Korse is dripping wax in different places across ‘Party Poison's groin, and there's no place for him to go.

At some point, tired and brain muddled from the probable days he’s spent at Korse’s mercy, Party Poison stops trying to pull away from the pain and instead tries to push toward. Korse's laughter rings cruelly in the room, the hollowness eerie to Party Poison’s ears. Everything spins to a stop, and the world focuses down to Korse's leather-gloved hand wrapped around his cock.

“Do you,” Korse says as their hand roughly jerks Party Poison off, “have anything to tell me today?”

“Fuck,” Party Poison chokes out, “fuck off. I'm not telling you anything.”

It's the wrong thing to say,, because Korse tugs harder, and Party Poison can't help it. He arches up into the touch, even though it hurts. Distantly, Party Poison thinks of what the other Killjoys would think of him if they saw him like this. Would they understand, or would they be disgusted with how far he’s fallen?

The train of thought is so distracting that Party Poison isn’t expecting it when Korse snaps the cock ring into place. He whimpers and tries to thrash against the restraints again, but Korse just keeps jerking him off. The action is a little too rough and just right at the exact same time, and Party Poison can't can't _can't_. He sobs brokenly, and Korse stops completely.

“Tell me,” Korse says, voice even and calm, “where they are.”

“I don't know.” Party Poison sobs, something in him breaking. “I don't know. I don’t know. There's... There's a diner in zone. Zone 5? _Please_.”

“Oh?” Korse wraps his fingers around Gerard again, stroking once. “Keep going.”

“Sometimes we stay there,” Gerard says. “Sometimes we—sometimes we use it as a base. Please, please _please_.” 

“Good boy.” Korse sounds almost sweet, and Party Poison can’t tell if the emotion he’s hearing is real or just a delusion. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” Party Poison begs, “yes, yes _please_.”

Korse jerks him off quickly and efficiently, leather dragging across Party Poison’s sensitive skin and somewhere between pleasure and pain. He squeezes his eyes shut as he comes and tries not to think about the fact that Korse just made him come. Tries not to think about how he just sold out his friends. Tries not to think about anything at all.

He doesn't succeed.


End file.
